Beautiful Sinners
by Forced Simile
Summary: Two followers of Elimine should not be so miserable. Lucius/Serra. Part I: the tale of Serra the faithless sister


**Beautiful Sinners**

By: Forced Simile

* * *

Part I: Serra

* * *

To heal someone varied on the technique. In general, it required an incantation of some sort, a stone with which to channel the energy and enough prowess to transfer the energy from the stone to the subject to heal. Serra had been studying the Elimineian school of healing which required drawing the positive energies from nature around. Still, knowing the incantations meant nothing if the healing staff was broken.

This was why, no matter how many times she attempted to draw light from around her to heal this monk, it didn't work. She could chant, "Oh Saint Elimine, your healing graces be upon this soul," over and over, but because of the visible crack in the stone, no energies could be held. Yet she cradled this young man's head in her lap and chanted her incantation until she became hoarse. She couldn't give up, he had protected her until the very end, the least she could do was keep trying to heal him.

"Oh Saint Elimine, your healing graces be upon this soul," she choked out. The energies rose from the ground, circled in the stone, but didn't take. The transfer could not be made. This was the twentieth time she had said it, his body was already growing cold. There was still time, she told herself.

"Oh Saint Elimine, your healing graces…"

She could see his eyes becoming dull, his bright green eyes which had smiled and danced at her from across the room in the chapel in the monastery. There was still time, she lied.

"Oh Saint Elimine…"

The energies would not stay in the stone and the cleric wished she could grab them and force them into his body, bring back his life. They had been ambushed by bandits on their first assignment to heal a village some distance away. There had been others with them, and they all fell. Serra had been the only one who managed to survive thanks to him. He had flirted with her and made her laugh…why did he have to go like this? He wasn't gone! There was still…

"Oh…"

She never finished that final incantation. Her voice was lost in a mess of sobs as she pressed her forehead against his. Why him? He had arrived at the monastery around the same time she had been dropped in the convent. They saw each other often, laughed together, studied together, grew up together, got in trouble together, they had received their first assignment together. Now he was dead.

She had seen the Thunder spell coming, but he couldn't move fast enough. The bolt struck him, racked his body with pain and electricity. Serra knew she could save him, she stretched out her arm with her staff and tried to heal him, but her staff had just broken and she didn't know any light magic to stop the enemy. She was the next target, and though it hit her, it wasn't strong enough to kill, and she lay beside her friend and played dead until the bandits left.

There she was, surrounded by dead bodies, only caring about one and unable to save anybody.

* * *

Shortly afterward she had to be transferred. Serra hated the convent more than ever, and the whole town made her think of everyone who had been lost. Fortunately, the Ostian State Chapel was looking for another skilled cleric, and there was a mage slightly willing to escort her there.

When she met her escort, she was nearly horrified. Erk was his name and he was obviously the scholar type, not very muscular, and seemed to be unable to defend himself. She could see him being run through with a spear, or even worse, his body being raked apart by a shaman's dark magic. He was trying to be civil, she was trying not to care. She didn't want him to even feel comfortable around her. If she got him to act like a jerk around her then she wouldn't like him so much. Then she wouldn't feel bad if he died.

Erk didn't have to see himself with a gaping wound, bleeding out and knowing that he was the only hope he had in the world. Serra had realized since her friend's death that she was often the only thing between a person and death. She could see anything and everything that would go wrong with someone; from illnesses to where their weaknesses were in battle. They wouldn't have to have anyone else die in their arms and if they did, there was probably nothing they could do anyway.

Serra simply could no longer afford to care about someone she'd have to heal eventually. She had always been loud and opinionated, and had a bit of a superiority complex. She was the third daughter of a slightly well to do Etruian family and suspected she may have been illegitimate due to lack of correspondence since she had entered the convent. The convents and monasteries of Elimine were where orphans huddled and rich men hid their mistakes.

Yes, a loud and boisterous, self-entitled attitude would push people away. For a while it worked. The first few days were uneventful, but Erk was obviously irritated with her and that was how she wanted it. She could learn to live a life of lonliness: pushing others away because she so greatly feared mourning over their deaths, hating herself for not being the infallible cleric that she aspired to be.

Something changed when she met Lyn and her friends. Maybe it was the sense of camaraderie that she hadn't experienced since her friend had died. Maybe it awakened her to the fact that she didn't really want to be alone. Perhaps it was they way Sain would buy into her act and flatter her when she wanted or needed it. Who knew exactly what had changed, all Serra knew was now she cared about that crazy band of people and she didn't want to. She was more than happy to help for her own personal fulfillment, but the way Lyn thanked her at the end of it all actually made her feel a strong sense of joy. She was glad just to see Lyn happy and Serra wasn't all that upset. Perhaps…perhaps she didn't have to live this life of forcible solitude.

* * *

Upon arriving at Ostia, Serra found it hard not to like her surroundings. The Ostian castle was amazing and lovely in every respect. Even the other sisters and monks at the chapel were fun. The cleric attributed it to the Lords Uther and Hector. They both were her kind of people, brash and straightforward. Being a cleric meant a lot more than just praying and knowing the Emilinic verses. She was well versed not just in spiritual healing, but medical healing as well. As such, she assisted the castle doctor often, acting as a nurse. It was this and also being an on the site healer during training sessions that put her in constant contact with the Uther, Hector and their stalwart knight, Oswin.

She had to admit that she really cared about all three of them. Hector's antics were always good for a laugh, Oswin always kept her on point and Uther had a sense of humor that always had her smiling. Whether it was healing Hector from a nasty wound, receiving a lecture while trying to heal Oswin's recruits, or giggling in the chapel because Uther was making this horrid face while listening to the father's sermon; she really loved those guys.

Which was why it tore her apart to find that Uther was sick. She was in the room while the doctor examined the Lord of Ostia. She had initially been preoccupied with Uther's well muscled chest covered in battle scars, but she was distracted by the observations the doctor made about Uther's breathing. Serra could hear it in his chest, and she could see that her friend was paler than usual. She wanted to make it go away…had she been more advanced in the healing arts she could pinpoint the infected areas and destroy it with light magic. However, she was just a simple cleric, she couldn't do much.

What was worse, she had to keep it from Hector, Uther insisted. Serra sat in the chapel later that evening, quieter and more sullen than usual. Despite what most believed, healing required little faith, it was all technical as was using light magic. Serra was a sister who had the Elimine faith shoved down her throat. She knew more than most, but she had no faith. However, for that evening…she wanted to believe something. She folded her hands and began to pray. She prayed that if faith was what was needed to heal Uther that she get it. She prayed that if she could really do nothing that Uther would get better. Just the thought of never seeing his smirking face again hurt her soul.

She burst into tears and clasped her hands. In her head she could already hear the funeral dirge being played, in her mind's eye she could see the royal guard bearing Uther's body down the isle of the chapel. She could see herself in black, eyes fixed on his still form. She could already picture herself waiting in the line to pay her last respects.

Serra cared about Lord Uther more than she would admit. She hated that she cared…she should have tried harder to annoy him, she should have been more rude, more irreverent… It was too late, she actually liked Uther a lot and she liked Hector well enough to feel guilty about not telling him his brother was deathly ill. She hated this friendship business. She was a cleric, a healer; anyone she loved would most likely die because she hadn't the skill or resources to save them. Therefore her friends' deaths would be her fault. She resolved not to let anyone close to her again.

* * *

She hadn't ever talked to Lucius before. True they had been in Lyndis' Legion, and even now they were fighting side by side under Lord Hector to vanquish Nergal's evil forces, but she had never spoken to him. Now she was forced to, he was a bishop and needed someone who was an experienced healer watch his healing technique during battle. She tried to think of things that would make him stay away from her. She couldn't afford to have a friend after all.

She tried glaring, she tried not speaking, but still he'd have this sweet yet apprehensive smile on his face. She hated it because she liked seeing it. She tried calling him a sister, to which he only kindly corrected her with that same stupid smile that set her heart a flutter just slightly. That was it: she'd give in to her "fantasies." She suspected that he may have a closer attachment to that red haired mercenary than he let on. If he was _that_ kind of guy, her attentions would be spurned. If nothing else, he was one who obviously took his vows to Saint Elimine seriously and he would stay away from the harlotry that was Serra. She tried sighing, giggling, all kinds of odd girlish things, and while he was obviously uncomfortable he still smiled at her in that gentle way.

All her efforts were in vain, with one or two well placed questions he got her to break, spilling about her horrible childhood how she hated the order of Elimine, how she wanted to be alone.

"You do not want to be alone sister," he said. "No one ever truly wants to be alone."

It was true. She really liked everyone she'd met. She was friends with Hector, Florina, Oswin, Sain, Matthew, Erk and even Priscilla was all right. Most of all she liked Lucius because he knew her. He knew why she did things like sleep in the corner of the tent even though a cot was in plain view. Why she would eat half of her food and take whatever she could stuff in her pouch along with her for later. She still had an orphan's survival skills, though she was sure she was not technically an orphan. Most of all she loved that he never chastised her for her lack of faith.

"What worries me more than the fact that you do not believe, Sister Serra," he said, as she kneeled beside him during confession. "Is that you have this desire to do harm to others. You are a healer, you should want to help not kill."

"You harm others," she protested pressing her hands together as she readied to confess her sins.

"I do it to protect others. I know tomorrow they will promote you to bishop and you will use light tomes. I will teach you all I know, and trust you will use your powers for good."

She was a bishop in full garb and decorum and she still had no faith in Elimine what so ever. Florina was the first to shyly ask Serra to commend her soul to Saint Elimine for killing so many people. Serra wanted to tell the pegasus knight that if she actually asked, it might be rejected. Lucius told her that she no longer had to confess with him, since she was now a bishop and could confess for herself. Serra found the arrangement disagreeable. She treasured the long conversations they'd have when they confessed to their sins together. For it was less about sins and more about what troubled them. After hearing her story, Lucius decided that when he returned to Etruia that he would start an orphanage.

"And there will be no pressure to accept Elimine's doctrines," he added. Serra's eyes welled up with tears at this news. She felt so happy to have touched someone's life this way, but now she was afraid. Lucius was in the middle of a war, and he could still be killed. The sages were getting stronger, the knights quicker and more powerful. She closed her eyes and saw a sword rent though his stomach. She wanted to blurt out how much she hated him, but it was much too late, she couldn't lie. She cared too much about this man who knew her all too well despite having known her for so short a time.

"Lucius…" she mumbled. "I may not have to confess with anyone anymore but…can we still talk like we did during those times…"

"Of course, Serra. Your view of life is refreshing," he said. "I must sound like a stodgy old Father to you."

Stodgy old Fathers of the Elimine faith would have chastised her for not believing. Lucius was far beyond that, he was healing, kind and almost holy unto himself. She secretly believed herself to want to dissent from the order and serve Lucius. He was a saint among men to her, and she only believed in him.

* * *

Serra felt that it was a stupid thing to teach a cleric to fight. She would be much too formidable, especially assuming she'd get better over time. She knew exactly how to fix a person, put them together from the inside out. That same knowledge could be used to burn an enemy, she could tear them apart, separating socket and marrow. Lucius saw this hate in her eyes but said nothing. He trusted her way too much just like a good saint hoping his follower would do the right thing.

It was her first battle using light magic and all she had been asked to do was heal. She resented it, resolving to pour all her pent up anger into the first strike she was able to make. Lucius knowing of his friend's predisposition for killing as of late worried for her. His preoccupation spelled his doom, a javelin from an enemy knight sailed straight into his chest while his attention was fixed on her sullen form. Serra's eyes widened in horror. He was still alive, but so was the knight who was poised to finish him off. Serra ran in front of him. 'Elimine, I do not believe in you at all,' she thought, 'but could you please, for this man who believes in you so much…could you please grant me the power to defeat this knight?'

She held her staff tightly and closed her eyes, feeling her robes rise with the gathering energy.

"May the light of Elimine burn the sins from your soul, Lightning!" she cried. The spark of light tore through his armor and skin. It didn't kill him, but it weakened him enough for Lucius to cast a final light attack in his direction. Kent took over from there, riding to the rescue before more damage was done. Serra was more worried for Lucius who still had a javelin sticking out of his chest. He had collapsed to the ground and she knelt beside him, taking his head in her lap. The javelin definitely hit something important, but just missed his heart. Lucius smiled and Serra felt like her lungs had been tied up with ropes; she couldn't breathe. His paling face, serene smile and violent wound made him look like a martyr in an icon at a church. Was Emiline punishing her in a vicious parody of her own imagination? She had idolized him and now he was going to become a true martyr in the name of Elimine.

"It's only a flesh wound," he said weakly. She wanted to slap him, but knew it wouldn't help.

"You've never been injured this badly under my watch before. It's going to hurt…" she cooed, stroking his cheek. He still had that stupid grin on his face as he nodded. Serra placed his head carefully back on the ground and moved so she could get a good grip on the weapon. She grabbed the javelin and pulled it out and Lucius cried out in agony. She couldn't bear the blood that spurted on his robes. A lot landed on her own clothes, staining them with the memory of his pain. The pink haired girl readied her staff.

"Oh Elimine, thy hallowed healing hand be upon this injured soul," she chanted. The light gathered and shone brightly in the stone on top of her staff. It settled on Lucius' wounds and healed him. Lucius stood up and smiled brightly at her. For the first time in forever she felt like she had faith in something. Lucius smiling face reminded her that he was only alive because she was able to get a powerful Lightening spell at just the right moment on her first usage of the tome. Perhaps Saint Elimine really did look out for those who followed her faithfully.

'I'm sorry Elimine,' Serra thought crushing Lucius in a hug, 'I cannot abide by your rule. I'm in love with this man and I want for no other. I want to be with him more than anything else for that I shall have to break my vows to you, should he accept my love.'

A priestess in The Order of Lucius.

* * *

I'm not done with Lucius' part. It's far harder to write than Serra's. She's such a great character, I could go on about her for ages. I hope I can flesh out Lucius a bit.

For the record there will only be two parts, so it's not a grand epic or anything.

Yes, you can shoot me for the Monty Python reference.

Edit: This whole time I've been reading "Elimine" as "Emiline." Eep. Fixed!


End file.
